Friday, September 18, 2015

Sometimes, when I'm thinking about giving in and just calling it a life, I'll find myself - or maybe I just need to notice it at that moment - I'll notice myself somewhere, imbedded in something that takes my breath away, invariably. It doesn't have to be much. Just a deep blue thing on a black gray wideness is all it was this time.

At a moment like that, usually I'll feel an instant of concern. Almost like a miniature panic, that the beautiful thing I'm imbedded in will die if I'm not existing to witness it, for it to be witnessed. And at that moment, it doesn't seem possible that a beautiful thought, once thunk, could ever be unthunk or unmade, or unappreciated... unthinkable.

Experiencing that, and thinking the resulting thoughts, leads me to the conclusion that everything, every single fermion and force carrier that makes up every single thought and every single thing, and everything else too, is exactly beautiful. And that realization makes me even more afraid of dying, because what if...

Ok, lemme expound for a sec. I dunno if this is just raw egegotismotism, or if it's an example of the natural state of conscious life, but for the past twenty or so years, I've been grieving in advance for the music in my head that MIGHT disappear forever when I die. 'Might' is a recent qualification; within the past so and so years or so/and so/on..

So, since hell is plainly a result of free will and all, and to...

I mean, you can't voluntarily disconnect the music, because...

That would be unforgivable,to...

Dangit. Sometimes this happens. I'll get off track, or lapse, or forget, or shit myself out of pure terror, then lose the gist of what I was, like a lunatic, going on about like a lunatic.

Something about being terrified, with music playing in the background. I'm sure it'll come back to me soon, if I don't get dead first, and I'll finish.

Sorry.

Huh.... but I think all that's pretty much finished, right? I mean, I ain't gotta say anything else about it, I don't think...

What
are the odds that someone walking a similar route four days a week
every week for 1 year, at a 3 mph walking speed, consisting of 1 mile to
and 1 mile from a particular destination, with a starting time during
those 4 days varying by 10 minutes on either side of 1:00 pm, resulting
in a 1 hour walk, plus or minus 5 minutes, would clearly observe the
shadow of an airliner flying overhead visibly
passing by on the ground within a 20 foot radius of my... I mean, the
walkers location, which is also a specific point on that route - say,
the cross streets of Fulton and Egan in Denton, Texas, USA - twice in
one week?

That is, the observation of the shadow of an
airliner passing overhead, almost exactly between my location* and the
position of the Sun so that the shadow of the airliner is clearly
visible on the ground, at that particular time, within 20 feet of my
location* - that is, that particular place occupied by the observer,
which could be me, or anyone else really, but in this case actually
happens to be me - twice in one week, according to the parameters
already stated?

*I of course mean 'my location' in a general
way, in the same way that I can mean... I mean, YOU can mean... that
is, You with a capital 'Y', as being the general form of you, of
course... can mean the general form of YOU, or YA'LL. Or everybody,
plus or minus myself.

Do wea'll get it now? That's a new
contraction we invented, right then and on the spot. Or, if we're still
confused... 'my', or 'our', as in the royal 'we', or 'wou're'. Another
contraction I'we (look, that's another one) just invented. Wou'I'wou'e
get the idea. We demand it. Moving on.

NOW.

So,
who wants to answer that? I mean... no, I don't mean that. I don't
want to know who wants to answer that. Wait. Yeah, I do want to know
who answers it... I mean, I don't really want to know who wants to
answer that, but I want to know who actually answers it, insofar as the
actual answer is concerned. But I don't really care.

But
what I mean is, the answer to the question is more important than
whoever it is that answers it. That is, I mean, the answer isn't more
important than the actual person who answers it... what I mean is, the
person who commits the Act Of Answering is, of course, more important
than the 'idea', or 'concept' of an answer. However, and but, the
actual data contained within the answer is, of course, unswervingly,
more important than the answerer! But if you just want to answer, but
don't really have an answer, then I don't care about you at all. At
ALL! You're eating bankable entropy. That's all I can see. You're
responsible for the heat death of the universe.

Relax. It
doesn't even become an issue of the ego until after the answer, so don't
get so bent outa shape, for Pete's sake! YEESH. Stomp the person, not
the answer. That's my motto.

Ok. I understand that most of us
are alive and human beings. So, here's a great compromise... in fact, I
don't think this is really a compromise at all. This is truly the
best of both worlds! Do it like this here, right there, under here,
where it starts a new paragraph, starting with OK. Start reading there,
and do that.

OK. What's the answer?!

And whoever
answers, just type your name after you answer it, and everything is
AWESOME! Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is
AWESOME, when... uh. Never mind, that's something else.

OK! What was the question again? Nevermind. What was the answer again?

Distraction from Imminent Despair

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About Me

Zounds cried the astounded clown in a gown who was bound for down town as he frowned at the resounding sound of the renowned crown that he'd found as it wound up on a round mound surrounded by abounding brown ground near his half drowned hound from around the pound. Meh.